


The only thing that can stop the coming winter

by wannabequeen



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Dom/sub, Human Furniture, Light Sadism, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Size Kink, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannabequeen/pseuds/wannabequeen
Summary: Ephrim is the only thing that can stop the coming winter, and he deserves to be worshiped for it. Hadrian needs somebody to worship.





	The only thing that can stop the coming winter

**Author's Note:**

> Why is this happening? Where is this happening? I don't know. Where's Rosana? Let's just say they have an agreement that they can fuq other ppl when Hadrian's away? She will have her own entry in this series of "everyone tops hadrian" I have planned

The night is quiet, and chill, and alone. There is a fire in the grate, but it is the only source of light in the richly-appointed parlor they have found themselves in. Ephrim is sitting in a wing-backed chair, all crimson brocade and velvet dressing gown, watching the fire burn. Hadrian, acting as Ephrim’s footstool, is naked beneath him. Hadrian shifts his weight, and Ephrim strikes out at a hip with one booted toe, quick and sharp and correcting. Hadrian shudders and stills. 

They remain this way, no movement but that of the flames and the gentle expansion of Hadrian’s ribcage as he breathes, for another ten minutes. Finally, Ephrim swings his feet off of Hadrian’s back, stands up, and then leans down to smack Hadrian on the ass, hard. He doesn’t move as the handprint starts to bloom, pink even against his dark skin.

“Good. Up.”

Hadrian sits back on his heels before rising to parade rest. He stands, naked, with his back to the fire, so that he is mostly in shadow. He looks straight ahead, a muscle in his jaw flexing, but otherwise still. Ephrim walks around him, running a fingertip across the broad line of his shoulders and up along his jaw. He raises to his tip-toes, and places a gentle kiss against the corner of Hadrian’s mouth. 

“Good,” he says, softly. “C’mon.”

Ephrim turns and walks down a dim hallway, towards the bedroom. He listens for the soft footfalls against carpet to change to the tap of bare feet on hardwood before he turns and leans against a wall, one foot propped up. 

“I want your mouth.”

“Yes,” Hadrian says, falling to his knees. His voice is hoarse from remaining silent for so long. Ephrim looks down at him, eyes soft, pushing his thumb between Hadrian’s lips. Hadrian closes his eyes with a sigh, and begins to suck, bobbing his head like he’s sucking a cock. Ephrim withdraws his finger, but lingers with the pad of his thumb at the fullest part of Hadrian’s bottom lip. He rubs, there, spreading spit-shine across his mouth before drawing a hand down to rest at his trapezius.

“Pick me up.”

Hadrian opens his eyes, searching for a hint in Ephrim’s face. “My prince?”

“You've borne so much on these shoulders, come on. You can bear a bit more”  
Hadrian groans, and hoists Ephrim up so that his thighs are on Hadrian’s shoulders. He’s still braced back against the wall and Hadrian’s still on his knees, but now Hadrian’s face is in his cunt. 

“I deserve to be worshipped. Worship me.”

And Hadrian does, with messy tongue and desperate vigor and an occasional flash of teeth. His tongue darts between Ephrim’s folds, licking around his hole before slipping two thick calloused fingers into him. The broad flat of his tongue sweeps up over Ephrim’s clit, lapping slowly. Hadrian worships as he does best - devoting his entire body to service. Ephrim comes riding his fingers, arching against the wall at his back.

Ephrim tugs at Hadrian’s hair, which he had clenched into his fists without noticing.

“Take me to bed.”

They fumble for a bit, trying to figure out how to get Ephrim from Hadrian’s shoulders to his arms, and how to get Hadrian from kneeling to standing, but soon enough, Hadrian has him in a bridal carry. Hadrian shudders as he bears him across the lintel of the bedroom, but Ephrim pays it no mind. Let him feel guilty, if he wants. He obeys better for it.

The room is dark wood and paper lanterns and simple furnishings. It is not as richly appointed as the parlor; no doubt the prior occupants wanted to impress their guests. The bed is clean and serviceable, with a thick white duvet turned down to the end. Hadrian puts Ephrim at the edge of the bed, sitting up, and kneels in front of him.

He looks good on his knees, cock hard above his thighs and hands neutral at his sides. His head is tilted down, eyes tilted away in deference. But Ephrim does not want demure; Hadrian is strong, and Ephrim relishes that. He wants that strength in his service, at his command.

He grabs Hadrian’s face by the jaw, pulling him up at the chin. He curls his fingernails in to scratch two lines just above the line of his beard. 

“You look at me, or you don’t look at all.”

Hadrian, with a gasp, shuts his eyes.

“Alright,” Ephrim says, rising and stepping around Hadrian. “Onto the bed, and lie in the middle, face up.” 

While Hadrian gets into position, Ephrim retrieves a box from his pack, which they had deposited into a corner, and places it on the bedside table. He opens it, and removes one item before going to sit next to Hadrian on the bed. Hadrian shifts, trying to intuit what Ephrim wants, but Ephrim just slides one hand to cup the back of his skull and raise his head.

Hadrian stills as Ephrim clasps the collar just below his voicebox, eyes glistening but meeting Ephrim’s all the same. Hadrian always wants a physical token of connection to those he serves, and the few times he is granted this one, he relishes it. Quickly, Ephrim reaches for the ropes he had tied to each corner of the bed before they started playing, and ties Hadrian tight in a spread-eagle. 

He straddles Hadrian’s waist, then, to tie one last knot. He leaves the rope draped across Hadrian’s chest - it will be a leash, but not yet. Not until Ephrim picks up the other end. But Ephrim lays it deliberately against his sternum in a loop, an obscene mimic of the symbol of Samothes Hadrian wears on his tabard.

Ephrim pats his chest and rises, turning to grab something else from the nightstand before settling between Hadrian’s thighs. He kneels, leans down so that his lips brush against Hadrian’s cock when he speaks.

“Do not come until I say. I have plans for this.”

And with that, he presses a warm, slick thumb against Hadrian’s hole. Not enough to penetrate, just enough to feel the pressure. He circles, gently, before adding more lube and slipping a fingertip in. He works up until he's got two fingers, crooked up the way he knows Hadrian likes best. He fucks into him deliberate and slow, and Hadrian is thrashing as best he can in his ropes.

“It's good I tied you so tight, you could hurt yourself this way. Are you grateful for my foresight?

“Yes, thank you, yes, but I’m… please, I'm so close.”

Ephrim clicks his tongue and pulls back. “And I hadn't even made use of this yet,” he scolds, flicking Hadrian’s cock with one finger. Hadrian flinches away. “I guess I should move on.”

He shuffles up the bed, over Hadrian’s body. He lines them up, so that just the head of Hadrian’s dick is against his labia, and slides it forward and back a bit, not even parting the lips; just a tease. He looks up from his work, at Hadrian, at his eyes screwed shut, the sweat beading down his brow and lip bitten tight between his teeth. His breath, as loud as the billows of Samothes’ forge, is the only sound in the room for a moment. 

Ephrim reaches forward for the abandoned leash and winds it tight around one fist. Hadrian’s head is forced up, and he opens his eyes to look down the curve of his chest and his stomach to see where their bodies meet. He groans, tries to raise his eyes up to the ceiling. 

“No. Keep your eyes on me.”

When Ephrim is sure he is looking, he adjusts his hips and lowers himself, slowly. He's wet, and ready, and still feeling the stretch from Hadrian’s fingers, but he goes slow anyway. Hadrian isn't a small man, and Ephrim doesn't mind extending the tease. When he finally bottoms out, Hadrian exhales like Ephrim punched him in the solar plexus. Ephrim swivels his hips experimentally, and Hadrian gasps, making a high sound in the back of his throat. He tries to buck his hips up, but with his ankles tied, he doesn’t have much leverage.

Still. Ephrim has trained him better than that. He raises the hand he was using to balance from Hadrian’s pec and pinches his nipple tightly. Hadrian winces, but otherwise does not make a sound - he’s taken greater hurts for lesser reason.

“You know better than that. I fuck you when I’m good and ready, and no sooner. I thought I didn’t have to tie your hips down to keep you in place any more. Do I?”

He pulls at the nipple. Hadrian shakes his head once, makes a small negative sound “Nn-nn.”

Ephrim lets go and slaps Hadrian in the face, once, sharp, with an open palm. “Use your words. Do I?”

“No, my prince. I’ll. I’ll be still.”

“Good.”

Returning his hand to Hadrian’s pec, Ephrim soothes one thumb over the skin he had pinched, smoothing the chest hair there, allowing the moment to settle. And then, when Hadrian calms down a little, he rises an inch before sinking back down. 

This time, they groan in sync, Ephrim’s breathier voice floating high above the moan deep from Hadrian’s chest. Ephrim rides him in short, abrupt thrusts, until Hadrian starts to toss his head again. At that point, he pauses to pet Hadrian’s chest hair again, until he isn’t so close to coming.

Finally, he decides he’s teased enough. He sits tall, like he’s riding a horse, and grinds his hips down, slipping a hand between them to take care of his clit. Hadrian feels so good inside him, is serving him so well, doing just what he ought… Ephrim comes with a final jerk of his hips, pulling his hand away and flopping down onto Hadrian’s chest, keeping his cock inside of him. He kisses at whatever skin is under his lips, and pats Hadrian’s bicep almost absentmindedly, although his fingers are still sticky from his come.

“You served me well. Good boy. I’m proud.”

And with a single desperate thrust up, Hadrian comes. Ephrim pulls off, and makes a bit of a face. He reaches for a corner of the sheet and wipes himself off, and then Hadrian. Slowly, starting with his ankles, Ephrim unties him and kisses the impressions left behind by the rope. When he gets to the collar, to take off the leash, Hadrian flinches, the first real movement since he came. 

“Can I… I, uh.” He lifts his head, a little, to kiss Ephrim’s forearm.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can keep it. C’mere.”

Ephrim tugs at the rope, a little, to reassure Hadrian that it’s still there, until Hadrian is curled up in his arms, head pillowed on Ephrim’s chest. 

Ephrim kisses Hadrian’s hairline, and strokes one hand across the back of his head until he’s asleep. Ephrim rolls over to blow out the candle, wraps up the rope so that Hadrian won’t get choked in the night, and closes his eyes. 

Outside, the wind howls. It almost sounds like a wolf.

**Author's Note:**

> bless the fucky resistance


End file.
